


As the World Falls Down

by Death_Herself



Category: Original Work
Genre: Eternal Life, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, Loneliness, Nonbinary Character, Nontraditional relationships, Other, Poorly Depicted Religious Views, Rebirth, Sadism, Soulmates, Suffering, Trigender Character, Virginity, hell creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 10:19:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12724719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Death_Herself/pseuds/Death_Herself
Summary: Though we're strangers till now, we're choosing the path between the stars. I'll leave my love between the stars. As the pain sweeps through, makes no sense for you. Every thrill has gone, wasn't too much fun at all, but I'll be there for you as the world falls down.





	1. Enter the Night That She Came Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chainsmokingnun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chainsmokingnun/gifts).



_Cold._

_Always so cold. There was no other way to describe the world around her. Even she was cold. Skin burned white. Shifting to translucent at will. She was seen when need be, never a constant being in the world full of ordinary carbon bodies. In the darker world she was a servant, never an equal. At least in the realm of the living she could be invisible. Not that it was any better._

_For centuries she watched. For centuries he acted out her job. Long centuries filled with lament and desolation._

_For centuries she was whatever the tormented wanted, times when she was he. Much like when she was she, he’d touch their bodies with a softness unlike any they felt in life. Penetrating their souls and earthly bodies. Accepting them into herself. Accepting them into himself._

_She saw so many lives wither with time, coming to them when time ran out. So many lives would cease at the drop of a hat. Some wild accidents, some by a wicked soul acting out. With morbid fascination, she watched. Her eyes wide, his eyes wide. Waiting for his signal to introduce himself. To finally be seen, male or female, by fading mortal eyes._

_A soothing, “Hello, my love.”_

_And they knew in that moment who she was. Misty cloak covering a bare body, covering translucent flesh. Not wanting the nakedness or bones to distract them from the moment. She needed them focused. He needed them focused._

 

_When she wasn’t with the tired, she was roaming. Day and night meant nothing, fickle measurements of time for the living. She roamed from place to place. He roamed from place to place. Loneliness settling into her core would drive her to buildings with significance. Her favorite were the homes of God. His favorite were the basements below the homes of God._

_Servants, much like a creature of the underworld, roamed the halls and grounds. Tasks carried out in the same garbs worn day in and day out. Symbols of their commitment to a life of fulfillment and solitude. She sympathized with the women. He sympathized with the men. Knowing the confliction when it arises in the young children of God._

_She would take the hand of a sister, leading her into the wood late at night and dance with her. The child would sigh, high in the dream of dancing with the angel of death. Her cold lips would brush theirs, boney fingers trace their jaw. Whispers of beauty would pass her lips before the sister could. In the peaceful moment of being seen by a human who saw angels and demons, she didn’t want to be lied to. She didn’t want to hear the hazy words of a child temporarily in love._

_He would stand next to the bed of a brother, the chill of the room biting his already icy skin. How a human man could stand the conditions bewildered him. And they would gaze upon him. Eyes full of love and admiration at the sight of an ethereal creature. His body bare, pale. In this moment, he’d indulge the fantasy of a lover. Someone seeing him as an equal, not a myth. They wouldn’t cower when he’d crawl in bed with them. Fingers tracing down the length of their body. The softest of sounds escaping untouched lips._

_Neither scenario brought guilt to the harbinger. Because in these beautiful moments the creature wasn’t a harbinger. Simply an image to true believers, being seen and loved no matter how much of a lie it was._

_Dawn would come and the brothers and sisters, full of doubt, would wake up with a clear sense of their purpose. Remembering the kiss of an angel._

_For centuries, the bite of loneliness was healed with the salve of these few and far between beautiful moments. It wasn’t a cure, but it was enough._

 

_Then, one day, a spark erupted in the world. A spark of heat, a current. When electricity coursed through civilization, the creature of death knew master would step up His game of evil._

_He called upon her, called upon him._

_“Times have changed, my child.”_

_“Yes, master.”_

_“And we too shall change.”_

_“Yes, master.”_

_His fingers burned like fire, touching her icy neck and threatening to melt it’s flesh. “I, kind and doting, will give you the thing you truly want.”_

_Excitement flooded his very soul, made her body tense with unknown joy. “Master is very kind.”_

_“Only to his most loyal.” Master’s eyes blackened, his beauty burned bright. He was the epitome of human lust. Able to satisfy any desire. Blessing the creature who served him with the same ability. “A human body. One every two decades. To be seen, to be real to your beloved pets.”_

_She closed her eyes. “So very kind.”_

_His smile was a sight of true love. “The people will change before your eyes. Quicker than they ever have before.”_

_She opened her eyes, smiling her pointed teeth at him. “Yes, Master.”_

 

_As kind as he was, Master was still the lord of darkness. A darkness that always came with a price. The transition from myth to human was painful. So incredibly painful. Dying and being reborn with a fully conscious state, now she understood why the humans loved her. She was there to ease the pain. No one was there, holding her hand to ease that pain._

_But._

She was human. He was human. 

The first decade, 1890-1900 was a learning experience. She was born with beauty, real hair, real eyes, real flesh, and very real gender. As if apologizing for the pain of birth, Master gave her the ability to be the human gender of opportunity.

So many centuries of studying human flesh, she knew how they saw gender. It fluctuated with every generation and culture. A penis was superior here. A vagina superior there. Both beautiful and a mystery. One she wanted to explore, one he wanted satisfied.

The end of the second decade, 1910, _she returned to Master._

 

_His hands still burned, her form returning to as it were when she stood before him. His smile was different. One of suggestion and knowing._

_“The flesh... a beautiful thing. You were so beautiful discovering it from their point of view. So beautiful when you sent them to me, to Him.”_

_She smiled, “Did I do good, Master?”_

_He pulled away, “Very good, Elizabeth.”_

_A name he’d given her to blend in. It was special to her, never having a name before. She said it often, her real heart fluttering when a human would say it while looking at her._

_“Are you ready? To go and be with you beloveds again?”_

_She kneels, bowing her head. “Yes, Master. Please.”_

 

_The pain was the same. The rush was the same. She welcomed it. He begged for it. To be among the living was worth the searing, crushing, cracking, and electric torture. To be new, to be seen, to be given a name... was worth anything._

 

_~_

 

Every decade brought new challenges. Master, or Father as she calls him now, was right when he said the humans would change rapidly before her eyes. Every birth was suiting to the time. For that, she was thankful. Father really was doting and she never forgets that.

Until...

Right before her rebirth of 1970.

Flesh was easier to capture. Humans were more willing to let her taste them, let him devour them. The _hippies_ were free from their earthly bodies with the use of _drugs_. It wasn’t new to her. She’s seen the escape used since the beginning of time. This time, she was able to join them.

The beautiful long haired woman curls in her lap. “Open your mouth, Kel.”

 _Kelley_ , her name for the time, looks up into the soft brown eyes. The woman's name is April. She’s small, unbathed, and delicate. Kel would do anything for this woman. They’ve been travelling together for five years now, connected instantly. She even accepts Kel and her male half.

She parts her lips and sticks the tip of her tongue to the roof of her mouth. The paper sticks to the under side of her tongue, followed by the tongue of the other. And Kel is in love. She has fallen in love over and over since the turn of the century. She had fought it at first, but caved every time.

April’s hands are under her shirt, touching parts of her body that Kel never would have imagined being touched eighty years ago. It’s a strange realization for Kel, that her body reacts like humans do, except death is unachievable until Father orders it. For she _is_ death.

Lysergic acid diethylamide takes thirty minutes to hit the body. Time, a fickle thing that Kel never cared for before, was important now. Thirty minutes of kisses, soft touches, and male anatomy being requested. It shouldn’t bother her to be asked to change, but it does.

What if she wanted to be herself? As much as he needs to be satisfied, she does too. It’s wonderful to find a partner who accepts, but it’s harder for them to understand.

He was wanted more than she, even though she was who they usually saw.

She opens her eyes to look up at April. Her head leaned back, body so accepting of his hardness. Her hair was water, skin lit up as if God himself was holding her. The summer of love, 1969, was going to be the end of this affair. She wouldn’t see her lover again. He wouldn’t feel her warm and willing body.

She resented her father. It took five years to realize it. Five beautiful years. Going back didn’t feel like home anymore. Home was here with the people.

She dies in April’s arms that night.

 

_“You mustn’t be so attached, darling.”_

_Kelley nods slowly, bowing her head. “Yes, Father.”_

_He strokes her cloaked head before kissing it. “Chin up. You’re doing so well.”_

 

 

She wakes up bare and surrounded by other nude bodies. New year, new body, new name, new life.

Michelle. Mish. She kneels before the lake, the smell of smoldering wood filling her nostrils. She’s pretty. Eyes big as usual, skin pale, and hair long. But... She isn’t Kelley and Kel. He isn’t Barbara and Barb. She isn’t Elizabeth and Eli. The person is the same, yet so different.

His anger flares. Her resentment grows.


	2. Reach Out and Touch Faith

“Mish!”

Another woman with her head leaned back and body on full display above him. He wished she’d stay, be as beautiful and special as April. He didn’t even bother with staying as _she_ for this one.   _Linda_ wouldn’t understand the duality inside of Mish. The night he returned to this personal hell among the people he loved was when he’d met her. One of the delicate bodies lying on the ground around the fire. Her body tangled with a man who could be a dog with the amount of hair speckling his flesh.

Her eyes had found him first, before any of the others. She must have noticed his chest and thought nothing of it. Too high to care, too free loving to care. She took him there by the lakeside and has done so every night in the month between then and now.

“Right-right there!”

Mish rolls them, her back meeting the dirt and eyes meeting his. “Tell me you love me.”

Her smile is soft, hands trailing up his neck. “I love you, Mish.”

He can’t breed her, but he fantasizes he can. Spilling deep inside of her and not stopping until that urge to parent dies down with their rapid breathing.

She’d never carry his child, no one would. And she would never carry another’s child. The reality was searing. The angel of death could never have the child she wanted.

He doesn’t love Linda. He can’t love again.

 

~

 

Loose over shirt, ripped jeans, tattered messenger back, tied back waist length hair, and an attitude worse than most of the teenagers she ran into. Jessie was sick of life restarting every twenty years. It’s been a hundred years since her first night with real flesh, real eyes, real human contact.

When it began she praised her dad. Now, she was just bitter. Now, he just wanted to cut ties with his dad and do his job without being bothered. He defied the changes of time this time, sticking with the culture of nearly two decades before. The younger humans called it _retro._

Whatever it was, he was sticking to it. Jessie was sick of any and all change. He didn’t cling to lovers anymore, tossing them aside for the next thrill. She misses the warmth of April, misses the way she would comfort her. He misses her, but he refuses to let himself be attached.

Kel was no more, and April has children and a husband now.

This century was seeing change more rapidly than the last. Every second was giving the world something new. Cell phones, smart phones, all loud and obnoxious. Video games have erupted into a way of life. And everyone seems so _busy._

Jessie was thankful for parks being quiet. Just ten years before, they were bursting with children. Now, a handful came to play. Mostly housewives jogging between errands and stay-at-home mothers with their babies.

The sad part was that most of these children on the playground are here because their parents couldn’t afford the fancy new gadgets.

He dragged his exhausted body all the way here to watch people. Much like he used to do when he wasn’t one of them. Jessie sat on the bench on the outskirts of the woodchip lined play area. The woods behind her were bustling with joggers and couples.

Time was running out for this body. Just under a year left now. It was a good run though. The year before brought the first black president, lots of terms about equality and gender understanding. That made her incredibly happy. _Faggot_ used to be the only term shouted at her from anyone who saw her with a woman. Now, the names could vary no matter how cruel the intent.

Her eyes scour the open landscape, starting with the playground. A mother off in the distance is on her phone, hate pouring from her lips. Beside her are two backpacks, and just in front of Jessie are two small children playing with each other and looking towards the woman every so often.

Jessie lets out a soft sigh and looks to other parents around the park. Half of them are on their phone, the other half are hovering over their children as though they will break. It’s painful to see children suffering. In her time, human and not, she has seen so many children die at the hands of their parents. With them, she would gently take their hand and guide them to a softer place. They’d smile and even call her mama. It was heartbreaking, in so many ways.

“You’re pretty.”

Jessie looks towards the quiet voice, her eyes wide as they land on a small child with soft grey eyes. “Um...thank you.”

The child tilts their head. “You’re sad though..."

She blinks, letting the words soak in. They hurt worse than any other words she’d heard. This small child, no older than nine felt the need to come talk to her. Jessie smiles, “Grown ups are usually sad.”

“Nice people shouldn’t ever feel sad.”

“Then I hope you never feel sad.” Jessie digs in her bag and pulls out her notebook, scribbling out a short message and holds it out to the child. She’s not seen a child like this before. Adorable, kind, and extremely _special._ Even though the child looks physically female and is even dressed that way, the harbinger doesn’t pin that label to the child. There’s a deeply rooted feeling of uneasiness coming off of them and it has nothing to do with a stranger offering them a piece of paper.

Their little fingers take the paper, looking it over and slowly reading the writing. Their cheeks tinge pink and they don’t raise their gaze to her again. “That’s not what mama says.”

Jessie’s brow furrows. “Mama’s aren’t always right, love.”

The child looks up just as Jessie leaves the bench. Their eyes moving back to the paper again. Why a sad stranger would be so kind was a troubling mystery to Lilly. 

Mom and dad weren’t getting along, always mad and sad. When they saw a sad stranger watching them, they decided to see if she needed help. Lilly may have been distracted by how unique the lady was. Still, it didn’t make sense. Why would some stranger write:

_Because you’re beautiful._

 

~

 

It was a small piece of kindness that Lilly kept tucked away in their journal. Every time, after that day, they would hope to catch another glimpse of the stranger. It never happened though, and it was disheartening, but it made the sentiment of it more meaningful. Romanticizing meeting the stranger again, learning her name, and even hoping for more compliments.

Whenever they were feeling especially down about their pent up feelings, Lilly would come back to it. The paper was worn and faded. As it faded, so did the hope to see the stranger again. They didn’t need to, they decided. Because the small encounter had been enough to feed that needy childhood mentality.

Being rescued, swept away from the misery of life and into the arms of someone who cared. Someone who understood. For Lilly, it would always be this stranger. Even if the shoes were filled by someone else. Pretending wasn’t hard. They’d done it their whole life, pretending to be the _daughter_ , _sister, and woman_ their family and peers expected them to be. Never once revealing the hurt and discomfort that came with the lie of _her_.

Years of hurt. Years of growing into someone no one else seemed to understand. Years of loneliness.

 

On Lilly’s seventeenth birthday, their mother tried to take the journal they’d started that year. Claiming she needed see exactly what the teen was writing everyday. It was the first time Lilly stood up for themselves. Years of neglect and invasion of privacy hadn’t pushed them to react, but the thought of their mother taking the precious slip of paper, given to them when they needed it most, was.

It was a mistake to react, and Lilly knew it. It broke the dam to the strong and violent waters of their family. Mom crumbled, dad cracked, and hell was real.

For an entire year, they endured tension from their family before finally, finally escaping. They couldn’t properly explain the appeal, the freedom, the choice. Discernment, surrounding themselves with the comfort of the church and the sister's kindness. It just felt...right. Like they’d been here before, spent their life here before, saw angels before.

Angels, like the stranger.

 

~

 

For seven years Aubrey lived the life her dad set out for her. Loneliness biting harder than it had in past centuries. There weren’t many places to go to be seen like she wanted. She wants to be special, like she used to be. To have eyes full of adoration be on her.

She stands over him, feeling his gaze burn through her. She can tell he finds her beautiful, mythical even. The bus behind her smokes, windshield cracked so no one can see them. _“Hello, my love.”_

So many bones are broken, and still he reaches for her. Blood pours from his mouth as he speaks, “You’re...”

She leans down, sitting on his lap and stroking his face. _“Yes. It’s me. Don’t be scared, my love. I’ll take care of you.”_

He closes his eyes and swallows a mouthful of blood. “Does it...?”

 _“No. This is the worst of the pain.”_ Her hands runs down his chest, into the mess of his pulpy stomach and chest.

“Thank you.” It’s a whisper as she takes his hand in one hand while the other presses into the gaping hole.

His last breath is shallow and shaky, clinging to the woman as if she will leave him. They both know she won’t. He lets go and she rises from her spot. He saw her. He saw him. It just isn’t enough.

Aubrey leaves the scene, the power of suggestion something she doesn’t like using, but is helpful when there are eyes around her. The weight of another tragedy of a man, so young and able, meeting such a cruel and twisted fate was too much for her on this night. The overwhelming urge to repent, to indulge in her obsession of watching the sisters and brothers of the churches. The churches just aren’t the same as they once were.

Each step is filled with rising determination and excitement. His heart pounds in her chest.

 

Lights pollute the night sky hanging it’s chilly air over the city. The cold felt different with warm human flesh. It hurt as it forms gooseflesh on her skin. Her bright eyes, green and blue, move from the starless sky to the large cathedral doors. He can’t stop the amusement of the idea of something that once stood alone and tall is now threatened in stature by workplaces just next door.

She shakes her head and pushes the door open slowly. It’s been a long while since she has _stalked_ and _danced_ with a sister. Times have changed, people have changed. Even the children of God.

The door closes behind her and she’s surprised to find a few bodies in the pews so late in the night. This isn’t a covenant, so she won’t find the swarm of religious habit adorned figures. Maybe one, maybe two just flitting about.

The inner crotch of her black jeans are wet with blood, but it’s not exactly visible to untrained eyes. Her fingers worry the hem of his shirt selection. Red plaid hanging low and three buttons undone at the top. Her choice of a black tank top just barely hiding the cleavage beneath it. His black thigh length wool coat hides her figure, not that it matters with her chest so visible. Her long hair a mess from the wind.

Aubrey knows she won’t blend into the small broken up crowd of people with their heads bowed. She isn’t seen though. Not with their focus on God’s voice.

Her boots echo and it's softly captured in the wood of the pews. Just another thing to draw attention to herself, but she doesn’t care. He’s spotted something and is bee lining for it.

In the front sits a single and lonely person, chin length hair held back by a black headband. Something about the way they are trying to make themselves small lures Aubrey to them. She sits a person length from them, eyes roving over the clothing of the other. Feminine, sweet, small. Hands clasped together and eyes closed. There’s a problem though. The internal struggle of the mind inside ' _her'_ is one Aubrey has seen before.

Soft grey eyes open and meet her gaze. Pink kisses the cheeks below the eyes, and a small twinkle of recognition lies in those soft eyes. Aubrey smiles, her mind swimming with a sense of familiarity. “Discernment?”

Grey eyes blink, the embarrassment painting their cheeks a darker shade. Even so, their voice is soft, “Is it that obvious?”

Aubrey hums and looks up towards the lit up alter. “No.” She looks back to the eyes still on her. “I’ve just seen that look before.”

Lilly looks down at their hands, deep down they can’t shake the thought of this stranger being a lot like _their stranger._

“I’m trying, and surely failing, to be true to my choice. It’s just...”

Aubrey smiles again, tilting her head and scooting a bit closer to the other. “Hard.”

Lilly nods and raises their gaze again. Taking note of how close the other is, but choosing not to comment. “I want this. I really do, but the-” They stop theirself. They were so close to revealing a secret so deep and frustrating to a complete stranger. Maybe that was why. Maybe she was too much like their stranger, their angel.

As if she knows, Aubrey nods. “The things we want always come with hardships and naysayers. We can’t let that get us down though.”

Their eyes lock with the woman’s. _“Because you’re beautiful?”_

Her eyes widen and his heart flutters. _“And nice people shouldn’t ever feel sad.”_

“My angel.” It’s barely a whisper, a breathless sigh. Lilly unclasps their hands and holds one out. It has to be her, even though she doesn’t quite look the same. “I've hoped and prayed you’d return to me one day.”

Green eyes are focused on lips that are barely moving as they speak. She knew those eyes were familiar, but this sort of thing never happened. She never met anyone again, she was never recognized again. "You've...waited for me to return?"

Their soft blonde hair bounces as they smile warmly. "Every day and every night for nearly eight years."


End file.
